


Ending

by vaiya



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaiya/pseuds/vaiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezri isn't who Julian needs her to be...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ending

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic I've posted anywhere.
> 
> I might be a little nervous.

He should have known it wouldn't last.

He HAD known it wouldn't last. They both had. They had even talked about it before they got together, but they had been swept along in the fantasy anyway.

There was nothing wrong with their relationship, per se, at least not physically. Ezri was beautiful, and the sex was fantastic. After all, with nine lifetimes behind her, having been both a male and a female, she had enough experience for it.

But…

There was something missing.

At first, it was hardly noticeable. They would chat, eat, work, and retire to the bedroom. These simple interactions kept them both afloat in their haze of love for a while, but it didn't last. It couldn't last. And soon enough, Julian had started notice it.

They had almost no shared interests.

He tried to ignore it. When they fought together at the battle of Thermopylae, he assumed her reservations about the battle were simply because of the newness of the experience. She would get used to it, and they would be legends. Well, holographic legends, at least. Sort of. There would be battles, glory, and discussions on how to make the next one better. Then they would do it again.

But she wasn't Miles.

The first battle went poorly. Ezri was entirely unused to the battle tactics used, and didn't seem to have enough co-ordination to wield a hand-to-hand weapon, despite Dax's two previous hosts having been well trained in the Klingon battle arts, and Bashir had spent most of the next day listening to her moan about her sore muscles until he decided to put his medical degree to use and help.

It was worse the second time. By the third, she was seriously trying to convince him that playing the same battle over and over again was unhealthy and boring.

Boring!

So he stopped going, and he stopped trying to convince her she was wrong.

But he wasn't ready to give up just yet. If the physical entertainment wouldn't work, he tried for her mind. She was a counselor, after all, and surly had some great insight. He convinced her to read some of his favorite books, human and alien alike, and then engaged her in debate. While she would have some nice input about the characters’ motivations, their conversations seemed to fall flat. There weren't a lot of cultural differences between them, and those that did exist weren't enough to argue about. He found himself becoming disappointed whenever she agreed with him on a point he’d made, or an observation he’d hoped would elicit some kind of reaction.

But she wasn't Garak.

The fact was, if they weren't talking about the war, work, Jadzia, or sex, they had nothing to talk about at all.

He found himself becoming more subdued as their relationship lingered. Sometimes he would have to force himself not to wince whenever she mistook a pronoun while referencing a memory that had belonged to her previous host. She would often babble after making the mistake and make light of her embarrassment. Everything she said was plain and simple and straight to the point. No insinuations, no teasing, no hinting at other things, no real flirting.

She was not Jadzia.

The worst part of it was that she had noticed it too. He’d become sullen more often than not when they interacted, and would begin making excuses that he needed to be elsewhere. She tried bringing it up once or twice, but he’d chickened out and insisted he had some important documents that needed to be given to Colonel Kira.

He knew it was over when she arrived in his quarters with the dreaded words, “We need to talk.”

So, he let her talk. She’d had it all figured out with that counselor training of hers, and laid it out for him; He wanted her to be the people he was missing, not herself. She wasn't them, and when he couldn't think of anything at all to argue any of her points, she only looked at him sadly and said, “Goodbye, Julian.”

Of course, he took it badly. He was angry at himself for being so cruel to her as well as letting himself believe it would work out in the first place. He was angry at Jadzia for dying, and himself for letting her. He was angry at Miles and Garak for leaving him. He was angry that he’d yet to have a relationship that lasted any real length of time. The closest he’d had was with Leeta, and he found that thought incredibly depressing. He supposed, if he didn't count a romantic relationship, he also had Miles and Garak.

Somehow, that didn't help.

It wasn't even a week later that he heard Ezri was leaving the station. Feeling a pain of guilt about it all, he went to confront her about it. He found her in her quarters, packing. She had hardly seemed surprised at his arrival, but made a point not to look him in the eyes.

“I’m returning to Trill.” She announced, turning her back on him after letting him in and continued packing. “I should have gone back when the war was over, to get more training. The Symbiosis Commission will be waiting for me.”

“Ezri…” Julian began, but couldn't seem to make his thoughts form into words that seemed appropriate. Finally, he finished quietly, “You don’t have to go because of me.”

The young trill slumped her shoulders in obvious disappointment, but didn't yet turn around to face him. She let out a sigh. “It’s not just you.” She admitted. “It’s everything. Benjamin is gone, Worf is gone, Odo is gone, Miles… everyone but you, me, and Kira.”

“Well, and Quark.”

Ezri spun around, a mixture of anger and hurt on her delicate features. “Everything is different, and I still don’t even know who I am! I still make stupid mistakes like talking about my memories like they were mine and not Jadzia's or Kurzon's or any of my other hosts! I can’t be who you want me to be because I don’t even know if I’m who _I_ want to be!” she paused a moment, taking in a calming breath. “I can’t stay here like this.”

Julian exhaled, staring at her with his eyebrows pushed close together with concern. Comments and arguments flew through his mind, but nothing seemed to stick. After a moment, he moved closer to him and pulled her into a comforting embrace. She didn't fight him, even wrapping her arms around his middle after a minute. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Gently, Ezri pushed him away and took a step back. “Don’t be, Julian. It’s not your fault I’m not Jadzia, and it’s not even your fault she died, even if you do still blame yourself. Just… promise me you won’t blame yourself for this.” She motioned between them. “I really do need to get this all sorted out.”

Julian opened his mouth to reply, but swiftly closed it again and nodded, lowering his eyes to the ground. He heard her take a step towards him, but was surprised at the gentle hand on his, and the soft kiss on his cheek. When he looked back up at her, she gave him a weak smile. “You’re a sweet man, Julian. Don’t stop being you.”

He forced a smile back at her and nodded. “Goodbye, Ezri.”

“Goodbye, Julian.”


End file.
